


His name is Solas

by Daughterofthenorth



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dark Solas, Dumped, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feels, Fen'Harel - Freeform, Gen, I AM NOT CRYING YOU ARE, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Romance, Solas - Freeform, The Dread Wolf Rises, TheDreadWolfRises, Well of Sorrows, dragon age 4, dragon age feels, rawr, save the world, solavellan hell, vhenan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughterofthenorth/pseuds/Daughterofthenorth
Summary: A poignant short detailing all of the post Inquisition feels I could muster."He took your arm to save you. Sometimes we must lose apart of ourselves to be made whole. You do not make him weak... You make him mortal."





	His name is Solas

“They say you are to be feared?” The Inquisitor’s face swept North. Her complexion shimmering under the tedium of fog, sprinkled with broken stars. It was pale. Tired…  And despite her young years, nearly archaic. Everything felt heavy, even with the weight of the anchor gone.

“They have called me many things, girl.” A woman emerged from the shadows with eyes of a dragon and hair bloodied by snow. “Yet only time will tell what they will call you.”  She was not false. The Inquisitor knew this woman to be the Witch of the Wilds. To others, Flemeth… And yet to some, Mythal. I suppose if there was one word to define the Dragon Age it would be legend. Standing in her shadow, the night went dim—and The Inquisitor, a woman of formidable stature, was reduced to a short pause in a lineage of grand moments.

“ _Have you seen me_?” The Inquisitor’s bitterness projected. “I can’t save the world. Not like this.” The absence of her arm was merely a literal translation of the wounds she carried.

“The world?” She cackled cleanly into the crisp air. The shirring of wings jarred overhead expanding toward the sky. “Only fools run to save the portrait instead of the artist.” She stood beside me. The Inquisitor glanced halfheartedly in her direction surprisingly unafraid. “Close your eyes. Now suppose the world has gone quiet. Who owns the first voice you hear?”

Her heart stopped.

“He took your arm to save you. Occasionally, one must lose apart of themselves to be made whole. _Do you know what he fears most_?” her question lingered. 

“ _Failure_? Himself? Dying alone.”

“Perhaps. All of which translate into... _You_. Why do you think he left? It was not to prevent you from saving the world, but so you would not give him a world worth saving. You do not make him weak. You make him mortal.” The air fattened in the chaos of her swarming emotions. “I know not what choice you will make in the end. You have come a long way since goats being hurled at your keep… But I leave you with this. If you save the world, you will not save him _because_ you will have defeated him." 

"Defeat quells pride," I mumbled.

"It also breaks men into two." she paused. "And to what end? The world will simply continue its pattern of gross survival. Another one will emerge with the same agenda and on and on we'll go."

"He is using red lyrium to weaken the fade. He has your dragon. He is altered. What is you think I can do that I have not already done, Mother of Sorrow? Love was not enough. War will not be enough. I ... I am not enough." Air hit the bottom of her stomach with audible violence. "If I were--"

" _Enough_?" she interjected. "What economy is this? You cannot save the wolf and save the man. You cannot save the world and save the gods. You cannot have one and have the other. That my girl is impossible."

"But if there are no gods?" her spirit trembled.

"Yes, girl. You do have the capacity to think--that is promising. It will mark the beginning of end to the Dragon Age," she shook her head arrogantly. "Has it occurred to you that one man who can destroy the world is the only man who can save it? And perhaps, you--you who absorbed his power, you who absorbed his heart, you who are irrevocably linked to his fate--are the only woman who can save him." They both surveyed the lost colors of the forest together in quiet discontent. "I swear," the Mother of Sorrow turned, "only you could love the Dread Wolf."

The Inquisitor's voice rose lightly from the toil of surging from her blood-pump, spilling into the darkness.

“His name is Solas.”

 

 


End file.
